Kleptomaniacs at the Bookstore
by Simone Lyon
Summary: Really random story I wrote in school when I was bored. I hope you like it.


**K****leptomaniacs ****at the B****ookstore**

Don't you hate having to drive a really long distance to someplace where you know you're not gonna enjoy your time? Well, that's what we had to do yesterday. Me and Newkirk had to drive all the way to Düsseldorf. You know how long that is? Two hours. And guess where we were going: some little bookstore. A bookstore. Couldn't it have been a place somewhat more exciting?

Nope. Not for us.

So, we took that stupid long drive where it's just trees on both sides of the road most of the time. It was during the day, but that doesn't really help. It's just boring. So, we finally got there and it was nice seeing the city. (Düsseldorf is a small city, but it's the closest one to Hammelburg so it looks big.) At least, it was nice to not have to be staring at the dashboard or trees anymore. We took our time finding the bookstore. Newkirk said it was because of the lousy directions—I just think he got lost.

But when we got to the bookstore, we found it was having some trouble. Apparently a bombing raid had kind of shook it up. The place next to it was gone, and the store was standing, but missing a wall. It was a fairly small place, too, so the missing wall made it look worse than it was. Anyway, we had some difficulty finding what we wanted. We were _supposed_ to be finding this book that a contact had left information in. When we asked the book keeper where that book would be, she pointed to the missing wall.

"Oh boy," I muttered.

Newkirk, of course, had other things to say. He didn't let the book keeper hear it, though. Actually, I didn't understand it, but I could tell he was mad. It's a long drive for nothing.

"However, we picked up a lot of the books and put them in the back room," said the book keeper. "If you want to take the time and go look for it, you're very welcome to do so."

So, we let her take us to the back room. Well, I thought back rooms were usually small; not this one. It was about as big as the actual store and crammed with boxes of books. It couldn't have been everything that had been on that wall. It had to have been more. The room only had two working lights in it, so we could barely see. But, we knew what we had to do. We _had _to find that book.

"So what's the name of it again," I asked. I took the liberty of speaking English because the book keeper left us to find the book for ourselves.

"'Ow many times do I 'ave to tell you, Carter," said Newkirk. "It's _Grimm's Fairy Tales_."

"Oh yeah," I said.

"So look for a rather large book," Newkirk went on. "Cause the Brothers Grimm wrote quite a few fairy tales."

So, we started our search.

I actually did what Newkirk told me and didn't bother with the little books. Instead, whenever I spotted a larger book I'd check it. At first, I was just whipping through them all. But then my curiosity got the better of me and I started looking into the books more.

You know how it is. It reminded of me when I was back home at the pharmacy. The store manager would tell me to straighten up some shelves in the back, but then I'd start inspecting every little thing, and never really got my job done.

Well they had tons of books on nearly everything you could imagine.

"Look, Newkirk, there's a whole book about every bird in Germany."

Newkirk's head popped up from behind a stack of books across the room. "Really?"

"Yeah. Albatrosses, Loons, Storks, Gerbes—"

"Oh, _that_ kind o' bird. C'mon Carter, don't tease a man at a time like this."

I rolled my eyes. I should have known that _that_ was what Newkirk was thinking about.

Later on, I came on another book, this one about architecture of Germany. I was looking at these pictures of some really old cathedrals…

"WOW!"

There was a crash and a curse as Newkirk looked up again, rubbing his head. "Wot, you found it?"

"No, but listen to this: the oldest cathedral in Germany is 1,618 years old!"

"Who gives a damn."

"Those who won't be damned in hell for not caring."

"Just find that ruddy book, Carter!"

"Okay, okay."

Some people are just so impatient.

Later on, I found this other great book, all about these crazy manias. (Wait, is that the same thing?) Anyway, I thought I found this really good one…

"Look Peter, maybe you have this!"

"Carter, wot are you natterin' on about, _now?_"

"This is a book of mental disorders, and—"

"You think I have a mental disorder?"

"Lemme finish—maybe you have this: _kleptomania: a disorder characterized by repeatedly stealing objects neither for personal use nor for their monetary value._"

Newkirk shook his head. "No, no, no. It says not for personal use or for monetary value. Why else would I take it?"

I shrugged my shoulders and tossed the book aside; he had a point.

Later on, I came across this huge German dictionary. "Hey Peter, maybe you could use this to get better at your German."

"Or maybe I could use it to 'it you over the 'ead."

I threw that one _way _back there. I didn't want it in his easy reach in case he got too annoyed with me.

About thirty minutes later, both of us were tired of it. There weren't even anymore good books. I'd gone through a whole stack of encyclopedias; a warped history of Germany (the Nazi-Aryan version), then got another warped version from Newkirk; a book about the best beers in Germany—that one got Newkirk interested; another book about German history (the real one). I was getting too tired of the books to really care about them, and I was getting nervous too. The longer we stay anywhere, the more nervous I am. It only takes one sighting of us out of camp and our cover is blown.

Just then, the door opened up. I spun around, my heart pumping.

But it was just the store owner.

"Find it?"

"No," I answered. "But we'll keep looking."

"If you want to," she replied. "I was just letting you know that we'll be closing in an hour. I have to close earlier so I can begin repairs on the wall."

"Oh, right," I answered. "We'll be gone by then."

"Okay, good luck." She started to close the door, but stopped. "Want me to leave this open for more light?"

"No."

Me and Newkirk looked at each other since we had both answered her quickly _and_ in English. _Uh-oh._

"_Nein_," said Newkirk. _"Danke._"

She nodded, smiling sweetly, but looking worried, and closed the door after her. I let out the breath I was holding and looked at Newkirk.

"We need to get out of 'ere," he said. "We look for another five minutes. If we don't find it, too bad; the Guv'nor will understand."

I nodded and frantically started looking. I was now on the opposite side of the room than I had started on. I groaned when I saw a huge stack of books that went up to nearly the ceiling. I then saw the last book up there. It was real big. I pulled out my flashlight and looked up at it.

"I found it!"

"Thank the bloody Lord."

"You shouldn't talk like that Newkirk."

"Oh, shut yer gob."

He walked over, and we studied the tall stack. How to get up there?

"Get on my shoulders," said Newkirk.

After some awkward maneuvering I was finally on his shoulders, feeling all like a kid on his father's shoulders. I reached up, my finger tips grazing the edge of the book.

"Hurry up! You're breakin' me back!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try 'arder!"

I pushed up on it, slid it back on the tip of my fingers, and that was enough to tip it our way. It fell down to me…and I didn't catch it.

"OW!"

I figured Newkirk's head was hard enough to take it. But since he got hit, he fell, and I fell with him. Falling into a bunch of books is more painful than it looks. All those hard edges digging into your back. But we got up quickly, Newkirk pulling me up a bit more violently than appreciated, and picked up the book. I flipped through it, and was heartened that when I found page 293, the message was there as instructed. But it was long and in code. There was no way either of us were going to remember it all.

"We'll just buy it," said Newkirk. He reached into his pockets, but from his expression I realized we had a problem.

"No money?"

He shook his head. "You?"

I went through my pockets. Nothing. I looked up to him expectantly.

"Well, this is_ your_ area of expertise."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. He handed the book to me. "Stick it inside your coat and button it up."

"Why me? You're the thief."

"Because I don't 'ave a big ole coat on."

"Fine. But I don't know how to situate it without looking like I gained a few pounds."

Newkirk snatched the book back. He opened it up half way and tucked it into my belt. I buckled it, and then buttoned my coat around me. I didn't look so bad. Well, Newkirk said I didn't, but you can never tell with him.

Then, we tossed the book aside and left.

Outside, the store owner was on the phone. Newkirk and I paled, because she looked really nervous.

"We didn't find it," I said. "Maybe we'll come back tomorrow."

She just nodded as she kept talking in the phone. I caught a nerve-touching snippet _"two strange men speaking English and in Luftwaffe uniforms…"_

Great. Me and Newkirk jumped in the car and got out of there quick. I didn't start feeling comfortable until we were out of the city.

"I'd take this boring ole drive over that any day," said Newkirk.

I took out the book, getting more comfortable in the passenger seat. I opened it up.

"I could read you a story."

"No, Andrew."

"Or tell you all about architecture, manias, birds, beer, German history, any part of the 1924 edition of encyclopedias…"

This was definitely going to be a better drive back.


End file.
